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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27925321">Knee Socks Minus the Sky Blue Lacoste</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalotgoingon/pseuds/notalotgoingon'>notalotgoingon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Knee Socks, M/M, What more can I say</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:41:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27925321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalotgoingon/pseuds/notalotgoingon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sykkuno gets obsessed with knee socks, but really, it’s not like Corpse minds.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>728</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Knee Socks Minus the Sky Blue Lacoste</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: This is implicating a real relationship between two people when no such info has been made public. I will delete if either Sykkuno or Corpse claims they do not want stories written about them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first pair of knee socks Sykkuno ever buys is gray. They’re gray and itchy and slip down his bonier than average knees whenever he takes a step, resulting in an awkward baby flamingo walk as he adjusts them, and most of all, he hates them. He hates them with a fiery passion of hateful fury. That’s a flat-out lie. Sykkuno, for one, is incapable of hating anything or anyone. Second, he loves those things. He loves them because Corpse loves them. He loves them because whenever they slide down, Corpse pulls them up carefully, and when they start to itch, his hand is there as a barrier for his sensitive skin. Futhermore, the socks make him feel confident and happy and like Goldilocks and a playboy bunny conceived a baby while an Artic Monkeys song was playing. He loves them, so of course, he gets six more pairs.</p><p>  The first pair was from some small shop near his favorite noodle restaurant. Toast and Leslie were taking pictures of some mural while Sykkuno meandered off to a brightly lit storefront. The mannequin facing him was wearing a red plaid skirt, white ribbed long-sleeved shirt, and gray knee socks. He walks in because he’s bored. Well, actually, he walks in because he’s entranced by the various mannequins in beautiful dresses and knee socks. The knee socks were definitely a big motivator. So he buys the gray pair and trys to play it off like he’s buying them for a female friend, but the cashier is so pleasant that he can’t stop himself from talking.</p><p>  “These are pretty,” she compliments, beaming from behind the counter, “think I’ve got a pair like them myself.”</p><p>  “Thank you...um, I think I’ll try them on tomorrow. The-they’re nice,” his face falls, but she doesn’t take notice of his slip-up. If she does, she doesn't mention it. And as he’s almost out the door, the thought hits him: maybe he’d come back for the red skirt later. Or the black leather one with the studded belt to match.</p><p>  When he brings them home, tearing them out of the confines of the packaging, he wonders how he ever lived without the wonderous sensation of knee socks before.</p><p>  The second pair is simply to prove a point. Corpse bets Sykkuno would look good in anything, so the latter, of course, begs to differ. He purchases the most hideous pair of argyle grandmother’s skirt patterned knee highs he can find. And then finds some awful purple, blue, brown, and green striped sweater vest to pair with it. He hates it. Again, that’s a lie because Corpse decides he likes it too, and Sykkuno can always find the good in something he likes.</p><p>  “I win,” he smirks, smugness tinging his words. If smugness had a color, what would it be? Sykkuno wonders, but that’s besides the point because Corpse’s hands are on his hips, right where the godawful lump of a sweater vest ends, and they're almost tugging it upwards, higher, higher.</p><p>  “No,” the usually meek boy protests, folding his arms to prevent himself from so easily toppling over into his lover’s arms like dripping honey, “I win. It’s ugly.”</p><p>  “It’s hideous.” Corpse confirms, barely glancing down because he is well aware of how terrible the patterns clash. Come on, stripes and argyle? He rubs circles on his hipbones. “But you’re beautiful.”</p><p>  So Sykkuno blushes rosy pink which influences the next selection for his growing wardrobe of high stockings. They’re lace. His other pairs are warm, comforting, made of thick knitted fabric. These are sheer, lace wrapped around his calves like misty fog that couldn't protect him from the chill if they tried. They’re so flimsy, he thinks the first one will rip the first time he slides his foot in. Except, it doesn’t. It’s soft and silky and makes him smile. Then, he puts the matching one on and nearly prances in glee. He streams the next day wearing Corpse’s hoodie that exposes both collarbones but feels like a furnace, warming his very bones, and those same lace knee socks. And when he reads chat and almost stops mid-sentence, eyes rolling back, computer mouse flailing to reset itself back on the table and not somehow in someone's thick, dark locks, it is most certainly not because Corpse loves pink lace socks but because Corpse loves Sykkuno most of all.</p><p>  Actually, the first time Corpse sees them, he almost chokes. Get it? Like the song? Don’t make this weird, guys. So Corpse sees them and makes it his mission to buy Sykkuno every godforsaken pair of knee socks on the face of the Earth because his baby will have a whole rainbow of colors and every design and so many fabrics if he chooses. He scours Forever 21, H&amp;M, every stereotypical teen girl happy place to find the perfect pair. But nothing will replace those sweet pink lace knee highs that live in his mind rent free. Almost nothing.</p><p>  Sykkuno finds more ways to accessorize with his growing collection, but he doesn't yet garner the courage to wear them out in public. He settles for crossing his legs under his desk as he plays Among Us, picking loose threads to distract himself when playing Minecraft, reading subs and nearly catching himself in a lie when he tells them he'll use the money to pay his water bill since he'll be using every cent for a brand new pair.</p><p>  The next pick is cream colored. They remind him of a cableknit sweater, and they're the only ones he ever christens by wearing them out for the first try-on. He folds over the tops and wears them under nice dress pants. It's uncomfortable, but he likes the feeling of holding an unknown secret. They also cost sixty-five dollars, so he wears them sixty-five times to get his money's worth out of it.</p><p>  They're even the first pair he tries adding to. He buys an assortment of bows and clips them to the socks. A fashion show ensues in which Sykkuno entertains Corpse by strutting around the house with the spirit of Tyra Banks running through his veins. They both enjoyed the spectacle far more than expected.</p><p>  Fifth, he buys white ones with a little satin bow decorating each. Angelic, Corpse proclaims when they unwrap the packaged fabric. They're so soft, like perfect clouds wrapped around his leg at just the right length so that they don't fall down. He sleeps in them. They tangle up like latticework in between Corpse's stretched out legs when they watch movies. They win important battles, not like Granicus or Waterloo, but the race to the kitchen for the last pancake on Saturday morning. </p><p>  But then a hole sprouts. It spreads like a weed, increasing in size to Sykkuno's unimaginable horror. It goes from a dime sized crater to the point where his first two toes can peek out with room to spare. He guiltily gives them up like an old friend, drapes them in the closet because a war hero deserves better than a dark corner of the room where their magnificence will no longer be gazed upon, even with a traumatic, career-ending injury. Sykkuno doesn't wear knee socks for a week after. He can't bear to find a replacement favorite. The gray ones don't do it for him anymore. The cream ones feel like sandpaper instead of silk. Even pink has lost its hypnotic touch. He pouts in the living room for a whole thirty minutes.</p><p>  And Corpse, wonderful, thoughtful, lovely, knee sock lover Corpse, buys him a new pair. Lucky number seven. So Sykkuno lets Corpse be the first to touch them. Well...second because Sykkuno lacks patience when the thick, soft material of new knee socks is involved.</p><p>  He cooks dinner in them. He makes tea in them. He serves tea during dinner in them. And Corpse decides he has a new favorite pair. It isn't even that they are so amazing and wonderful and gorgeous that Corpse has to declare them his favorite. It's actually due to the fact that they are Sykkuno's favorite, and he loves Sykkuno, and that love extends to everything he loves as well. Also, he gets his fair share of amusement and joy from knee socks too, don't get me wrong.</p>
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